


Gonna Close My Eyes

by summerstorm



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Community: cliche_bingo, Multi, POV Outsider, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-02
Updated: 2009-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>And then there's Adam, who lingers a little too long, and you know that's going to turn into instinctual magnetism for Kris, you know they're going to start drifting towards each other without even thinking about it; they're not going to know that this, what you're beholding right now, is exactly the reason why.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Gonna Close My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> For my [](http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/profile)[**cliche_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/) "second person narration" square.

People seem to think you're going to make a good judge for the season at first, and it turns out to be counterproductive: you get used to the raves, even if they're just raving about the way your character comes across. You get used to being mocked fondly, and when people start mocking you like they hate you from the very depths of their hearts, it hurts. You'd think it shouldn't, what with how you've been in the industry for years, but this is a new endeavor, and maybe you want some endorsement from the public. Maybe you even need it.

Simon tries to help, but Simon presents an image of himself that the public is _supposed_ to hate, and that's not what you were going for, and that's not what you're going for now. You had a plan and you're sticking to it, no matter how bad you fear it may backfire.

Sometimes, sometimes the articles are right, and you try to suck it up and get something from them, or remember not to scan a particular magazine or website for your name again.

Sometimes, though, the press completely misses the point.

You never say it to them, you know better than to justify your actions publicly, know better than to imply you think you did wrong, but sometimes you _want to_, you want to tell an interviewer or two that what you say is what you feel, what you felt during dress rehearsal, the real gut reaction to the arrangement and presentation of the song, which is just as important as technique and objective quality in the sort of fast-paced consumerism that overpowers society these days. You want a song to play on the radio, and you want that song to turn the listener's head, and you want that song to worm its way in, to stay in, and to make the listener want to hear it again.

And that's really your role at that table, which people just don't seem to get. You seek earworms; you're not going to turn down Mozart if you see him, and you'd like to think you'd be able to recognize him, but virtuosity is not what you're on the lookout for on Idol. Virtuosity's not what _anyone_ is on the lookout for on Idol, not even Simon, and whoever thinks that is kidding themselves, and whoever thinks that is a potential buyer, so it should be easy to understand why you can't shout it from the rooftops.

You like these kids, though, is the thing. They have good voices, good presence, _potential_. You said yes to all of them at least twice, most of them all the way through, and that's not going to change no matter how much a performance or a handful suck. They're genuinely nice people, too, nice without being stupid, and you feel like you lucked out pretty hard on this, because not a single one of them is going to cause a scandal—a real one, one that shakes up the show's entire audience rather than just the part that doesn't think Bill O'Reilly is an ignorant asshole—and involve you in it, you don't think.

You really do like them: Danny's a Cinderella story, Adam's a superstar, Lil's voice makes your stomach quiver and quake. You can see Megan's face on an album cover. You can see Alexis gracing a billboard. It might not work out that way, but you can see it happening, and that's exactly what they hired you for: your vision.

And yeah, sometimes your vision includes Matt Giraud stretched out over your bed, handcuffed to the headboard and wearing only a fedora, but you're a liberated woman, you're in your sexual prime, and it's part of your job to find someone who will appeal to that specific demographic; no one can fault you for that. If they do, fuck them; you don't want people like that to love you anyway. If Simon and Randy can give Bikini Girl a pass to Hollywood Week, you should be allowed to lust after a talented, fully (and very well) clothed pianist to your heart's content.

As the weeks slip by you learn to let it slide straightaway, to make no excuses, not even in your head, because you're Kara fucking DioGuardi, you're on your way to plan Miley's next hit song, and you make more money than all of them put together and forced to sober up and count their savings.

 

*

 

Sometimes Adam treats you like you're in on a secret, like you're more than a work acquaintance, like you're someone to trust. Half the time you think it's just because you assumed first and said, "You don't have some kind of outlandish heterosexual explanation for those pictures, do you?" instead of going all serious business on his ass, and the other half you think he just likes you, in that weird, unmarketable way people sometimes like other people for no discernible reason.

You weren't sure about Adam at first, but what someone's done isn't necessarily what they _are_, and you're so glad he's here now, that he dances with you backstage, that he lends you his eye shadow. It's not uncommon for you to share that kind of affinity with gay guys, but you didn't expect to have this on Idol, too, of all places, and you didn't expect his stage persona to be so easy to separate from his real-life one.

It's harder than it looks like, sorting these people out. They're a full palette, something for everyone, and you're not used to doing something for everyone. You work in one color at a time, like Picasso with pink and purple or whatever it was; you pick a tonal palette and stick to it, grab people who belong in it, write songs about believing in your palette instead of jumping from place to place just because the world compels you to.

When Megan is voted off, you tell her honestly that you don't know what color she is, and she looks at you with bright eyes and says she's a full crayon box, a whole color wheel, and it's weird, but kind of enlightening.

In a way, you feel like you wrote those songs for yourself, suddenly, and for where you are now. You're not sure where some of the contestants stand, but you know they must fit in somewhere, you remember having a vision of them somewhere, so you venture guesses, sometimes, and feel like you're doing wrong by them, like you're not providing them with the mentoring quality they deserve. Still, that's your job, to try to picture their place in the charts, and trying you are; no one can fault you for that.

Sometimes you do know what you're doing, though, know where you're going with your remarks on a given issue, and whoever you're trying to _help_ looks at you with defensive conceit and it's worse than not knowing, the burden you feel then, because deep inside you consider it your responsibility to let them in on what you see when you look at them, but they shut themselves off to it, don't absorb a word when you have the chance to offer them, and it's back to square one the next week, _sweetie_ and _honey_ and _this is the way I see it, but really it's the way a lot of people see it, and you shouldn't ignore it just because the press has given me crap about things before_, but you can't say that on national television; you can't say that anywhere because it sounds just as defensive as the contestants you're trying to teach.

You still like them all, is the thing. They still have nice voices, they're still genuinely nice people. It's just sometimes you feel maybe you should have them pass a psychiatric test beforehand, make sure everyone who gets in can handle and make the best of constructive criticism on the spot, rather than be defensive first and get over it later, or not even consider your advice at all. Of course, the point of Idol for some of the audience is seeing people fuck up just like they would, so you don't think Fuller's going to undertake that particular initiative any time soon.

 

*

 

Sometimes you watch them, all of them, their dynamics, the ways they interact. You've always liked reality TV, not just from an executive standpoint but also as a viewer; it's fascinating, and it's fascinating to be able to know _more_ than the audience at home knows. It's fascinating to observe them when there are no cameras around, when they're nervous or excited or tired or relaxed, the way they change, the ways they touch.

Anoop's on edge during the shows, greets Matt with a fist bump and everyone else by raising his head, and at first Danny and Kris approach him, but after a while they stop trying, seem scared of getting their heads bitten off.

Matt walks around during commercial breaks, talks to people who have no hand in his career, people you only ever say a polite hello to. He takes it all in, remembers to ask about someone's daughter's wedding in editing, or some cameraman's dying father. It's one of those things you both like and don't understand about him; thinking about external things is distracting, and you get that he may want a distraction from the turmoil that is the show, and you get that he comes from playing in bars, from not letting customers notice he's making an effort to entertain them. At times like this you wonder what it would be like, being an anonymous someone drinking scotch and watching him play. Maybe he'd glance at you at random intervals, like he couldn't help himself. Maybe he'd take you home and you wouldn't notice his hand on your ass until you reached the front door.

And yeah, sometimes your people-watching gets a little out of hand, like when you walk by the lounge and catch a glimpse of Matt sprawling over an armchair and wish he was alone so you could get down on your knees before him and let _him_ decide if this is a good idea, but other than that it's objective, psychological.

But the best part might just be Kris Allen, who touches people and doesn't notice when they flinch. Who hangs a hand on a shoulder, an elbow, the small of someone's back. You guess maybe he still can't believe he's here and needs the reassurance, like pinching yourself when something's so big you think you must be dreaming. Or maybe he just likes contact, plain and simple, and not everyone is used to that, and not everyone appreciates it the way you think it's meant to be.

Megan and Allison are the only ones who do, you think. They take it and they ask for it and they don't want more than a hug or a comforting arm around their shoulders.

And then there's Adam, who lingers a little too long, and you know that's going to turn into instinctual magnetism for Kris, you know they're going to start drifting towards each other without even thinking about it; they're not going to know that this, what you're beholding right now, is exactly the reason why.

It's okay, you think. Adam's a theater kid, and theater kids are used to physical contact. Kris is married. There's always someone around.

But then Matt stops flinching, sometime around the save, and Kris divides his attention up by half, and Adam starts gazing longingly, and Kris is married but not sharing a marital bed, and if LA's taught you something that's showbiz people have trouble finding good reasons to keep it in their pants.

So this all might be a little screwed, after all.

 

*

 

There's one major upside to that brewing scandal, really, because that's what you feel it is; there's one major upside to it and that is that it helps put things into perspective.

For instance, the thing with the six words, you'd rather forget about that. It's stupid and frankly kind of embarrassing and one of those things you can't really explain to the press because you can't explain anything to the press in this day and age. You did have six words for Adam. You _think_ in fucking sixes. You have another six words for Adam now, actually: "You shouldn't have sex with Kris", because someone needs to tell at least one of them that. But for the Motown show, for the _live_ show, you had six words. That's the thing with live television: you edit as you go. You had six words for him, and as you began saying them you realized it sounded too much like you were playing favorites or overly exaggerating, and you didn't want to hurt Matt's feelings, so you switched from "the" to "one of the", and now people think you can't count.

You can count. You're probably more aware of your own numbers than they are. What you can't seem to do sometimes is think things through before you say them out loud, and you wish they focused on that, on the honesty angle, but you're aware that's something the press would never do, and you know where they're coming from, and you can't fault them for that.

Still, that's that, and then there's Adam and Kris possibly ending up in bed together soon, and you understand and almost appreciate that the show's playing up a slip-up of yours for the sake of demonstrating self-awareness, because at least no one's going to get hurt from your mistakes.

At least no one's _getting_ hurt: by the time Matt is voted off for good, you know there's something going on between Kris and Adam, something present, current. Deep inside, you can't shake the fact that they're getting too comfortable around each other, and they're getting too comfortable around the crew. You speculate, in your head; you try not to, but it's hard when they're setting themselves up to be seen, even if that's not their conscious intention.

You just don't know how else to interpret the way they act around one another now; how Adam will sometimes be lying quietly on a couch, and the second the photographers leave Kris will walk up and sit down next to him, put a hand on the small of his back, and it will stay over the shirt, yeah, for maybe five or six seconds before crawling underneath, and you can see it's not static, you can see Kris's knuckles move, _stroke_, caress; you can perceive Adam's back arching ever so lightly up to the touch, and how the way he cups Kris's knee and bends his own to line up their thighs is a reaction, not a random happenstance.

They're comfortable, they're so comfortable, more than just Kris's friendly nature. It's practiced, almost, like their hands have already been on every inch of skin, like their hands are allowed to touch every inch of skin. Neither one of them ever flinches, neither starts or seems to fear where the other's fingers may land.

It's beautiful, and it would be more beautiful if you were sure it's just an aspect of their friendship, which it looks like less and less every day that goes by. The facts are that Kris is still married, and his adorable little wife is in the audience every week, and you don't approve of what they might be doing behind closed doors, or how obvious they are about it behind open ones.

You can't say anything because you're not supposed to _know_, though, and you can't say anything because they're both adult men capable of making their own decisions, and you can't say anything because maybe, hopefully, you're _wrong_. Still, from where you're standing, it feels like a train wreck waiting to happen, and you're afraid they're not sufficiently self-aware to deal with those consequences.

But first and foremost, for what it's worth, you don't think Katy deserves it.

 

*

 

You don't expect confirmation, though, and you try your best to deny it to yourself. It's none of your business as long as they keep it private, and you'd rather not think about it too much, not think about the way they're setting themselves up for disaster.

You definitely don't expect to walk by an empty sound room and find the door slightly cracked open and, inside, Kris with his jeans around his ankles, eyes shut and lips pressed together to keep from moaning. Your eyes shift downwards and you _know_ before you even see Adam's signature black hair between Kris's legs, his knees on the floor, head bobbing up and down and making it impossible to misread what he's doing.

Kris is holding onto the turntable behind himself, but before you manage to draw your eyes away, his hand flies forward and he tangles his fingers in Adam's hair, _pushes_ just once, looking kinda guilty about it, but for something someone feels wrong about, Adam doesn't sound at all displeased when he groans around Kris's dick and rubs the heel of his hand against his jeans.

He slides off with a pop, actually, looks up, and you can see his smirk even though he's not facing you when he says, "I know you're used to your cute tiny fragile wife, but you don't have to hold off with me," and Kris's grip tightens around Adam's blue streaks.

"She's not fragile," Kris croaks, and you're not sure how you feel about them _acknowledging_ Kris's married status, if it makes it better or worse.

Then Adam dives back in and Kris's eyes roll up and that's your cue to get going, because you don't want to know what Kris's face looks like when he's coming. You want to see it, but you don't want that knowledge to stay in your head, and you've never been good at blocking things out, and that is the kind of image that would haunt you.

What you've seen is already more than enough, anyway, considering you were just retracing your steps, trying to find an earring.

 

*

 

When there's no camera recording him, Danny looks at them like he's seen the same thing you have.

He probably hasn't, you don't think. Danny wouldn't really have business looking around sound editing rooms. That's something Matt might do, Matt with his here-comes-a-regular ways, Matt looking for some PA whose mating puppy he can ask after, and you think maybe Matt knows, maybe Matt's known even longer than you have.

You miss Matt. He fucked up most of his performances, and he doesn't seem capable of accepting that he's not made out to be the kind of pop/rock musician he wishes to be, but even when he really sucked, there was always a piece of clothing you could entertain yourself by thinking of taking off him, and you miss that. It's not like it's hard to think about undressing Adam, because it's not, but you always inevitably get distracted thinking about how long it would take to undo all those fastenings, and it's like counting sheep: so boring it goes past sleeping pill territory into incurable insomnia.

So you still wish Matt had stayed on longer, even after two weeks, you can't help but want that, and you don't know whose spot you'd give up for Matt—after _Heartless_ you can't think for a second that Kris doesn't deserve to be where he is, but in a way you wish Kris had left earlier instead, you wish you hadn't had the chance to figure out that this really fantastic example of acceptance and loving those who are different was cheating on his wife.

You hope that's what Danny's looks mean, you hope. You think differently of Danny now, but you still hope it's the wrong part of the situation that makes him look hatefully at Kris and Adam, rather than the fact that they're engaging in behavior he considers an aberration.

When you like somebody, you try to see the best in them as far as your knowledge of the world allows. Danny's story and his amazing voice make you hope the fact that he doesn't shy away from hugging Kris in public, even if it's just an act, means Danny doesn't think any of them has cooties or anything, and rather that he doesn't understand, or that he doesn't approve of them with regards to Katy only.

It was _Dream On_, though, obviously enough, what made you first realize you have trouble remembering what drew you to him as a recording artist at first other than his tragic backstory, the Cinderella appeal. You feel cruel because you really do love his voice, and you've been giving him rave reviews since the start, maybe just because of that beautiful timbre. Maybe you never knew where to put him, how to classify him. He's not beyond the system the way Adam may be; he just hasn't gotten there yet, and you don't know how to push him in by the time the finals roll around. If he wins, you have no idea what you're going to say to the press on the subject.

 

*

 

You didn't need to worry, though, because Kris makes it to the finals instead.

You can't even keep pretending you have any idea what's going on anymore.

 

*

 

You wonder if Allison knows. She likes to call herself their sis, but you wonder if maybe she's more of an adopted daughter, someone too young and too related to you to let in on your love life, especially when your love life involves sex with a married man.

Either way, if there's someone you can talk to about it, that's Allison. She won't judge. She won't get defensive. She won't run screaming. She likes these guys too much to do them wrong.

"Did you know Kris and Adam are—involved?" you venture over coffee.

"Yeah," she says quick. You really need to work with her on that. What if you'd just been fishing for confirmation?

It might come in handy right now, though. "_Sexually_ involved," you specify.

Allison looks at you like you just repeated yourself. "I just said, 'yeah'."

"And you're okay with it?"

"Well, they're happy," Allison explains. Then, "It's kinda hot."

"But Kris is _married_."

Allison contorts her face in that weird way that she needs to stop, and grunts in that really weird way that she really needs to stop, "I _think_ she _knows_."

You hadn't even considered that variable.

It takes a while for it to sink in.

"Does she know they spent a commercial break last week scr—_together_," you correct yourself, on time this time, because this is a sixteen-year-old you're talking to, "in a sound editing room?"

"Probably, yeah," says Allison, nonplussed.

You're not sure what to think about that. "Have you ever, ah, seen—them—have you ever—"

"Caught them?" she picks up. "Yeah. It was... kinda scarring." So it's not just bad luck that had you walk in on them. They're just that careless. Maybe next year you should make Fuller add a new clause to their contract: _The contestant will always double-check the doors are locked before they engage in behavior that America might consider unseemly_. It wouldn't work, but at least you'd have a good reason to bring it up to them.

"Did you talk to them about it?"

Allison chuckles. "Um, not about _it_ it, I already knew about them so I didn't need to talk to them about that, I just don't think they noticed I caught them so I just went like, 'You gotta start checking the locks before you get distracted, guys, or someone's gonna turn up outing you', and Kris was all, like, _blushing_, and Adam seemed neutral but I think he kinda liked the idea."

"Of being outed?" you ask, amazed, and then realize how it must have sounded. For purely social reasons, and because you want to punch O'Reilly in the face, you don't want Adam to ever go in the closet. You want Adam to win and be out and proud. So you explain, "I mean, himself, yeah, but Kris? Does he want that to happen to Kris?"

Allison seems to think your words over, and says, "I think it was more like the getting caught part."

You blink. "Oh. Well, that explains a few things."

And then Allison shrugs and starts talking about crawfish for no discernible reason, and you zone out.

 

*

 

A couple of days after your interesting but kind of confusing chat with Allison, you meet Adam for coffee this time, to talk about what's going to happen in the finals. To talk about _No Boundaries_, to talk about KISS. Two seconds before you see him you have no idea if you're going to bring up the Kris issue; you think there's a fifty percent chance right now. It wasn't even one percent with Kris, because Kris is... complicated, for you, and he's a nice kid and all but Adam actually seems to like you, and maybe you can get something out of that rapport.

Maybe it doesn't even matter.

You find yourself zoning out while he talks, too, which is ridiculous and annoying because you actually care about what he has to say, unlike how you felt about Allison's crabspeak, but it's. His mouth, that mouth? Has been wrapped around Kris's cock recently. And Kris's wife knows about that, and you suppose that means she's okay with it, because Allison never really came out and said, "Oh, by the way, when I said I think Katy knows about Kris and Adam? I meant she knows and is totally cool with it". No, she didn't say that. She didn't talk about that anymore after the little chat _you_ started, because Allison is like a bee and apparently she'd already collected enough substance from that particular flower.

"Adam," you say, slow, careful, "I have to talk to you about something."

Adam looks up from his drink and says, all sunshiny smile, "What about?" and you wonder how some people can hate him. He's too adorable to hate.

You pace in your head. "I know about—" _Kris_, you want to say. _I know about you and Kris, and I just need to know, what is the deal with Katy? Just to put my mind at ease, Adam, please_. But you've been having a nice chat, and he's really open to ideas, and he's smiling and if this is something that affects him negatively, you don't want to bring it up. You want to keep things positive. So you say, "I know RedOne's looking to work with you."

Adam's eyes widen like nebulas and he goes, "Oh my God, really? That's awesome."

You nod, shrugging with your mouth. "Thought you might like to hear that."

So you're gonna have to trust Allison on this. And she's trustworthy, she is, you don't doubt her honesty for a second; what you doubt is her commitment to double-checking her facts.

Still, maybe she's right. She most likely is. She's close to these guys.

You'll take it.

 

*

 

It's kind of a punch to the gut when you realize Kris and Matt have basically the same recording dream, and Kris can actually pull off what Matt's just unable to.

Matt's not in your head, obviously, but you still want to get out of your seat for a moment and walk over to where he's sitting in the audience and make him feel better about that. Let him know that him and his piano, they can go places, and they're just _different_, they're not worse than what Kris can do, and he can still sing Fray songs for you or in the shower, or possibly both. At the same time.

That's the final two show, a week since the initial shock of Danny's elimination, and you feel a comfortable weight in your stomach, like everything's been said and done, like Adam's already won and you're just waiting for the after-party.

You're actually more excited about upstaging Bikini Girl because really, that idea was awesome, than you are about the Idol winner being announced. They're both getting signed, you'll be doing the rounds, it doesn't really affect you, and you just know what's going to happen.

And then Ryan makes a 'k' noise and your eyes go so wide for so long you have to feel them water to remember blinking is an option here.

You don't want to think about what this means, not now. There's noise and yellow confetti and a part of you is terrified Kris and Adam might be just really, really stupid and start making out without realizing they're being watched by several million people, but once that danger's gone you relax again, you think, well, I've gotten this far, might as well enjoy hearing my own song again. It sounds more fitting to Kris's voice than Adam's, actually, you realize.

That's not what you really take with you, though. What you take with you is you're looking at all the contestants follow the melody, and everyone is happy, and then Katy steps up, hugs Kris and holds him and hides his quasi sobbing, and then you see Katy's smirking at Adam over Kris's shoulder for a millisecond, such a vague and subtle and—_naughty_ gesture that you wouldn't even recognize it if you hadn't noticed her look at Kris like that more than once, look at him like she was thinking, oh yeah, I'm getting some of that tonight. It's lucky of you to have seen that, suddenly, and it's lucky of you to catch this now, because in a flash you feel relieved; you think they might be okay after all.

You think you might be all right.


End file.
